


Payback

by Oryx_Gazella



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: DHMIS, F/M, Padlock, wow thats kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oryx_Gazella/pseuds/Oryx_Gazella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony you didn't really think there would be no repercussions did you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payback

**Author's Note:**

> UH   
> UH IM REALLY SORRY THIS BROKE 4K  
> IM SORRY FOR EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS ACTUALLY  
> LEAVE ME TO DIE I DESERVE IT   
> WARNING FOR BLOOD VIOLENCE GORE ORGANS AND STUFF  
> ITS A DIRECT CONTINUATION FROM MY LAST FIC RIGHT / LOOKS DOWN  
> RIGHT THERE I CAN SEE IT FROM HERE  
> TO SUMMARIZE: TONY FUCKED UP AND PAIGE IS MAD

            She was furious as soon as she woke up.  There was no period of hazy confusion, no calmness before her awareness returned; just immediate anger.

            Her eyes opened up to pitch blackness.  Heat flooded down her throat as she took her first breath since she had last died, and she knew exactly where he had left her.  Violent coughing overtook Paige before she could exhale, and she began hacking up frothy, copper-tasting fluid; the water left sitting in her lungs.  Every choking gasp urged her to make that goddamn clock suffer for this. 

            Once the she had stabilized her breathing, Paige shifted around, disoriented, her burnt flesh cracking as she wrenched it off the heating element at the bottom of the oven.  She slammed her open hand against each wall, not feeling or caring about the further damage she did to her palm every time it hit the hot surface.  The third wall she tested shuddered slightly; there it was.  Hopefully it was only the simple latch on the door was keeping it closed, and not something more effective.

            After bashing at the loose door few more times, the feeble lock popped open, and the door creaked down.  Paige crawled out of the oven, smoke drifting up from her charred dress and blackened skin flaking off as she moved her stiff limbs.  Being able to hear and see grievous injuries but unable to feel them was always…unsettling to her.  Hopefully everything would heal up before her nerves began responding again.

            She stood, kicking the oven closed, the movement sending a little shower of embers from her ruined dress to the floor.  She didn’t care.  Let the place burn down, as long as Tony was stuck inside when it did. 

            She already knew.  She knew what she wanted to do with him.  Paige headed to her cabinet, where she kept all her myriad of extracted and concentrated poisons.   Tony knew better than to try and steal any after the last time, so everything was in its proper place. 

            Bottles and vials clinked as they were pushed aside, Paige pulling one or two down as she dug to the back of the cabinet.  Her real goals were the orange plastic containers in the far back of the shelf; heavy medications, obtained through forged prescriptions and less-than-gentle persuasion. 

            Tony could walk in on her planning his murder, but she cared even less about that than she did about the fibrous muscle tissue visible through the crackled skin on her arms.  Anyway, he couldn’t stop her if he wanted; Paige couldn’t be killed again until she healed up, but Tony was fully susceptible to whatever stab wounds she could inflict.

            Paige looked down at her selection of bottles on the counter.  She knew what each one of them did on their own, but would they have the desired effect when combined…?

            A soft footstep behind her.  Paige turned, and Robin took a shaky step away, setting his glass on the counter by the doorway.  She smiled at him, doing little to calm him in the slightest; no doubt her charred appearance was more frightening than usual.

            “Dear, would you like to help me with something?”  She cooed, stepping toward her retreating target.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

            Tony was on edge.  His fury had abated enough for him to think about his actions; he didn’t exactly feel _remorse_ , but he was…uneasy about what Paige would retaliate with.  She was certainly not going to be merciful with him, especially considering how angry she had been even _before_ he killed her out of turn. 

            He had heard the racket of her clambering out of the oven a few hours ago, but since then things had been quiet.  It was expected that she’d sulk for a while, planning revenge while giving him the cold shoulder, but he hated it all the same.  He’d much rather just get the fight over with as soon as possible, rather than play this tortuous waiting game. 

Maybe he’d even be able to get the upper hand this time; sure, killing her _three_ times in a row would aggravate her immensely, but that didn’t mean he was about to simply _let_ her win.  Her rage would probably cause her to slip up and make some foolish mistake…

            Tony marked his page and set his book down.  It wasn’t especially late, only 11:23, but already he anticipated he’d have to stay up for the duration of the night.   More likely than not, Paige wouldn’t be going to bed, and a locked door wouldn’t discourage her in the slightest.  Sleeping was out of the question. 

Tony stood up from his chair, picking up his favorite mug; he’d kept it with him to guarantee Paige couldn’t even _try_ to poison him. 

            After making sure his sword was secure, Tony made his way downstairs to get more coffee.  He had to remain vigilant; venturing out without knowing exactly where Paige was hiding was always dangerous.  His free hand was itching to fly to the hilt of the blade and slice into something vulnerable. 

            The journey downstairs was uneventful; he didn’t hear a sound from Paige.  Half of him was relieved; the other half was even more suspicious.  Where was she?  No one had come upstairs since Paige woke up, not even their roommates, two of which were in the living room right now.  The idea of asking either of them about Paige’s whereabouts was...distasteful.    

            Tony frowned at the empty coffee pot; he could’ve sworn he left it mostly filled just a few hours ago, but…

            He glanced over his shoulder to the living room, scowling.  They must’ve either poured it out or drank it.  Whichever it was, he’d have to _teach_ them not to waste his time again.

            On second thought, the coffee _would’ve_ been a perfect target for Paige.  He set to work washing the container out, just in case.  And the filter.  And the scoop for the grounds.

            Tony tried not to seem so obviously defensive while the coffee brewed.  He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, attempting to watch both doorways at the same time, while appearing to watch neither. 

            The trip back to his room was uninterrupted as well; he still didn’t know exactly _where_ Paige was.   What was she planning…?  He couldn’t imagine her staying so patient after being killed twice, and he had given her two perfect opportunities to show herself.

            Minutes ticked by.  Tony tried to keep his restless mind busy by reading; no use in starting work on a project with Paige stalking around the house.  The coffee would be more than enough to keep him alert, and Paige had a far lower tolerance for sleeplessness than he did. 

            The small text was straining his eyes, and he rubbed at them with the heel of his palm. 

            Footsteps up the stairs; they were Paige’s, he could tell by the pattern and weight of them.  Tony listened closely, even after she had passed by his room.  He didn’t allow himself to relax until he heard the springs in her bed creak; he’d stay up longer, just to be sure. 

            Tony yawned.  His muscles felt heavy, and he stretched, trying to keep himself alert.  He took another sip of coffee, cursing the ineffectual caffeine. 

            He set the book back down; none of its information was getting through, he was too tired.  Well, he _had_ been up early, and his day was busy to say the least.  Paige was in bed already, and that lazy creature always _did_ sleep until…she slept in late.  Later than he did.  He could sleep.  Staying awake while unable to get anything done would be a waste of time.

            Tony collapsed onto his bed, utterly exhausted.  He’d wake up at…when would he wake up?  What time…? 

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Tony dreamed in bright colors.  Shiny silvery glinting and a pleasing, clean, metal sound.  A damp smell and a low hissing.  A high, chattering voice.

            Paige’s face.  Her hair hanging down to graze him.  He couldn’t feel it on his face; he was still asleep.  Her mouth moved, but it sounded like she was underwater, muffled and echoing.

            Was it a question?  He couldn’t figure out how to speak, and his mouth was too dry. 

            He saw her hand raise; it wasn’t a fast movement, but it was still a blur.  She was shaking…no, he was shaking.  She was shaking his face, still making that distant, unintelligible sound.  His vision was fuzzy, nothing stayed in the same place.  Was her hand really on him?  He didn’t feel it…

            The moving stopped and Paige’s face drifted away.  He saw red on…where did he see red?

            That hissing in his other dream was still here.  What was that?  He wanted to look around.  His head wouldn’t move, no matter how much he thought about it.  It didn’t really matter, he supposed.  Tony closed his eyes again.

            He felt his head moving again.  He looked; it was Paige.  He could see one hand of her braced against her knee, leaning down.  It…it was red.  It was red up to the elbow.  He looked down to the arm holding his chin; that one was red too.

            Only low mumbling came out of his mouth when he tried to ask what she was painting. 

            “Wake up!”

            That he understood, her voice; excited.  He didn’t want to wake up.

            “Tony!” that was his name, wasn’t it? “Wake up dear!”

            He blinked, trying to focus his eyes.  His arms wouldn’t move; he couldn’t tell where they were. 

            “Can you talk, yet?” 

            Could he?  His tongue felt numb.  “Nhh…”  No…no he could…  “Why are you…have paints on your…arms?”

            He…where was he? 

            Giggling.  She let go of his head, and it fell back.  His…neck responded this time, lolling his head to the side.  Before he could lift it up, however, Paige did it for him, gripping onto his hair, probably.

            His head was angled down, his chin resting on his chest.  What was she showing him?  He stared up at Paige, confused.

            “Look.”

            He looked at-

            Red against blue-

            _Blood_

_No no no_ it wasn’t just blood it was too dark for just blood his body didn’t look like that this was too deep _what was he looking at_ -

            Tony’s awareness came back in a terrifying jolt as he stared down at his exposed organs, shiny and dark.

            He- he had to be dreaming.  He couldn’t feel it at all- that meant he was dreaming _right_? 

            Paige’s already blood-soaked hand entered his vision, eyes still locked on...what was probably his liver.  A slender finger prodded at it, then sunk into that gaping open wound to disappear from view.  He couldn’t comprehend it, her hand gone up to the wrist; yet absolutely no sensation to accompany it. 

            He looked back up to Paige’s face; she was studying him, looking for a reaction.  Should he have acted like it hurt? 

            Paige smiled.  “Fantastic!”  She chirped, letting go of his hair; this time he could keep his head up on his own, with some difficulty.  Tony’s eyes followed her hand as she pulled it out of him, flicking blood off to splash in little droplets on his chest.

            His bearings were coming back; the basement- they were in the basement.  He was lying flat on his back, and his arms still wouldn’t respond, but he could feel now that they were above his head, probably tied.  He watched Paige as busied herself at the workbench, he couldn’t see what was on it.  That…hissing was still happening.

            Maybe…maybe she had overdosed him; he’d be killed, but maybe there wouldn’t be any pain.  Had she made a mistake? 

            “It’ll wear off soon, don’t worry!”  She called.  “But not _too_ soon.  That wouldn’t be any fun.”

            “H…How did you…”  He should’ve woken up if she broke into his room.  He should’ve woken up if she dragged him through the house and down two flights of stairs.  She couldn’t have poisoned him, he washed everything out.

            Paige gave him an amused look.  “Really?  You didn’t figure it out?  I was sure you knew when it kicked in.  Diazepam in the coffee grounds!  I was a little worried the heat would denature it, but...” she shrugged “Anyway, right now you’re paralyzed; and I’ve given you some painkillers, as you’ve noticed.  One will run out before the other, I’ll let you guess which.”

            His addled state was lingering, and with his eyes off his painlessly flayed-open middle, he began to forget about it.  “Ngh…The hell is the point of the painkillers…?” it seemed so useless. 

            “You’ll see soon enough.”

            A glace down grounded him again.  He watched an artery pulse gently with a captivated revulsion.  He tore his eyes away, looking back to Paige.

            “Wh…what are you going to do?”  He couldn’t stop himself from asking; the drugs were loosening his tongue, and amplifying his underlying fear.  Panic edged his voice in a way he despised.

            Paige gave a short laugh. “I suppose you can’t see up here, can you?”  Clattering.

            She turned around, holding a set of pliers.  His eyes moved up the handles as she walked toward him; something about the size of a golf ball was giving off an orange light at the end of the pliers.

            _The noise was the blowtorch_

            She leaned over him again, holding the red-hot thing so close to his face.

            His heart pounded.  He felt lightheaded.  _The drugs were going to wear off and his abdomen was cut wide open_

            “ _Paige no”_ He hated the sound of his voice pleading.  He hated the drugs removing his restraint.  “Okay?  I-I’m _sorry_ -  I wasn’t thinking, I know I-…“  The orage glow on the metal ball was fading “Listen you can kill me…you can kill me twice, even!  Just- Just please don’t do _that_ ”

            Her features softened, head giving the slightest tilt to the side.  She pulled the pliers back from his face. He knew how stupid believing her was, but he was too panicked to care.

            “Ohh…you’re _actually scared_ , aren’t you?”  She looked…sorry.  “I mean…I know how terrible that feeling is…”  Her eyes fell away from his face “I’ll just slit your throat then.”  Paige stood up.

            He was so stupid.  So, so stupid.  He felt relief.

            “Oh, wait, just…one thing before I do.”

            The metal ball pressed against his cheek, hard, audibly hissing into his flesh; _it was so close to eye_.  

Anger flashed on her face, and dripped from her voice

“ _Tell me how well begging worked for me_ ”

            He could _smell_ burning skin but couldn’t feel anything.  Tony tried to jerk his head away instinctively, but she just followed him with the hot metal; it was going to hurt, it was going to hurt so badly.

            She pulled it away when the hissing began to quiet, and brought it back over to the workbench, presumably putting it back into the fire. 

            Despite himself, Tony was frightened; he knew, he knew she was going to put that red-hot thing inside him, and the painkillers were almost certainly going to run out before the paralytics.  He could feel them wearing off, the haziness being replaced with panic.

             He watched her, humming to herself and monitoring the blowtorch.  His breath was uneven, and he struggled to keep from looking at the sickening display that was his body.  His eyes wouldn’t stop wandering back to it, skin and muscle pinned neatly back to his sides, blood dripping into pool under him.  His…his _organs_ quivered with each shallow inhale, slick and red and far too fragile-looking.

            Willing his arms to move did nothing; he managed to look up at what was keeping them tied. 

            Yarn.

            He couldn’t find the strength to break a few strands of blue yarn tied in a simple bow.  Tony wanted to get up and choke Paige to death while her back was turned. 

             His fingers twitched.  Paige stood next to him.

            “Any preferences?”  She asked, kneeling down by the bloody mess of his abdomen.

            Tony’s jaw locked as he tried to deny the reality of his situation.

            “No?  Alright.  I think I’ll put it riiiiight…” Paige reached inside with both hands, near the top of the autopsy-like incision, just under his ribcage.  He felt _things_ shift around inside him; nauseating despite the numbness.  “There!  I made some space behind your liver, so it won’t fall out.”

            She hadn’t been terribly careful; viscous strings of blood dripped from her fingertips as she returned to the bench. 

            Tony felt distant when she turned back to him, holding up the reheated metal.  He told himself it was shock, and not fear making his heart jump.

            Words caught in his throat, so there was nothing to cover up the hissing of his blood boiling away when the searing heat touched it.

            Paige wiggled the pliers, nestling the ball where she wanted it.  Enough feeling had come back to him to feel the weight of it; something that didn’t belong there, but there was no pain. 

_Maybe he’d still be able to wake up_.

            The tool was tossed away, landing on the floor with a clatter.  Tony closed his eyes, not wanting to think about what was happening.  He didn’t want to hear the muffled hissing, he didn’t want to see the white smoke rising out of his torso, and he didn’t want to consider the pain that was coming.                          

            The muscles in his arms twitched weakly, sluggishly.   

            _Ka-chunk_

Tony opened his eyes and looked down, alarmed at the new sound. 

            Paige was _stapling_ his skin back together. 

            “P-Paige…”

            She didn’t react to his voice, simply applying a few more staples to the surface layer of skin, the silvery improvised stitches standing out against deep blue and bright red.       

            He became aware that he could flex his fingers now, and tried to convince them to break him out of the frail bonds. 

            Paige beat him to it, finishing her ‘sutures’ and reaching up to his wrists.  She pulled the yarn, letting the bow unravel and freeing his hands before grabbing both of his wrists.

            “Come on.”  She encouraged, and pulled him up to a sitting position.

            The metal ball _rolled around_ , and the crackling sound of his insides burning got louder as it settled into a new spot.  

            His ruined abdominal muscles caused Tony to slump forward limply, and he caught himself with unsteady arms.  This…this wouldn’t kill him quickly; blood vessels were being cauterized as soon as they were cut. 

            Paige lifted herself up to sit on the edge of the workbench, watching with some amusement as Tony began to fumble at the staples. 

            A low warmth spread over his cheek.  His hands trembled, wet with blood and slipping off the makeshift stitches, unable to get enough of a grip to pull them out.  He could feel that same heat under his skin now, and tried frantically to get the wound reopened, going around the staples now. 

            Tony had his fingers inside the wound, about to tear it open when the pain hit him, so sudden and intense that he froze.

            _It felt like he was on fire_

He fell forward, letting out a surprised, choked yelp, making the ball jostle into a new place again.  A searing line of agony marked its exact path, acrid smoke still leaking out of the incision. 

            Tony collapsed to his side, trying instinctively to get away from the pain, his writhing only serving to make it worse.  Every inhale stuck halfway, his seared diaphragm sending agonizing jolts though his body with each breath.  The scent of his tissues and blood blackening to ash made him absolutely nauseated.

            He broke, unable to keep from screaming out in pain while his shaking, desperate fingers clawed at his abdomen.  Skin and muscle messily began to pull away, so much less durable than the metal staples holding it together. 

            Paige’s heel pressed into his side, shoving him onto his back.  He hadn’t even noticed her approaching.

            “How do you feel?”

            Arched up in agony, clawing at his middle, Tony let out a breathless whine.

            Her hands guided his away, gently, almost lovingly.  She pulled the incision the rest of the way open, skin tearing with a sickening snapping.

             Paige’s hands sunk inside him again, haphazardly digging through damaged viscera, blood flowing down his sides in rivulets.  He could feel everything this time, and the sensation of scorched tissue being shoved around sent his muscles into writhing uselessness, unable to even _try_ and push her away.

            Finally her fingers found the cooled object, grabbing onto it and yanking it out.  The metal was black and sticky with burnt-on blood and tissue, and she brushed it off, letting the ash fall back into his reopened abdomen. 

            Tony lied there, vision blurring and heart racing.  He panted shallowly, nerves screaming out in searing lines on his face and across his insides.  Darkness edged dizzily into his consciousness, and Tony blacked out.

            He came to seven minutes later, opening his eyes to Paige standing over him with a reheated metal ball.

            “No- _no no no_ \- Paige _don’t-_ ” he stammered, trying to back himself away.

            “I do actually have good news for you; the blowtorch is out of fuel, so if you make it through this I’ll just slit your throat for you.”  She stepped towards him, casually “If you don’t, well, you put in a good effort.”

            His back hit the basement wall just as Paige forced the metal back into his body, forcing another desperate yell from him, along with the vicious hissing of the red hot metal.  She twisted the pliers down, ensuring it sank in deep before letting it go and returning to her perch on the workbench, not bothering to try and suture his tattered skin back together.

His body was trying so hard to repair itself, but the rate was just slow enough to keep him at a steady level of blinding pain, and too fast to let him die. 

Tony dug his own hands into his insides, agonized and frantic, trying to find the metal and tear it out of himself.  The hot, slimy feeling of his own organs combined with the unbearable pain of the burns made sent him to the verge of blacking out again. 

            _He couldn’t find it_

He could feel every single nerve ending the metal touched but he _couldn’t find it_. 

            A pained, involuntary spasm wracked his body, fingers clutching around whatever unidentifiable viscera he was holding as his muscles convulsed. 

            Tony collapsed back to the cold basement floor.

            Something had happened.  Something had broken and couldn’t be fixed.  Had he torn it himself?  It didn’t matter; for once he was actually _glad_ to feel the familiar nausea of bleeding out wash over him, especially for the numbness that came with it. 

            Hands slipped out of his own abdomen weakly, the blood soaking them mottled with blackened flakes. 

            Tony exhaled, and couldn’t bring himself to inhale.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Paige crossed her arms, disappointed; she expected him to last longer.  She hopped down, wanting to make sure he hadn’t just blacked out again.  Paige nudged his prone body with her foot. 

Nope, dead. 

Kneeling down, Paige examined him, trying to figure out what had done it.  His skin had paled to a more ashen blue, pointing to heavy blood loss.  She reached in, wanting to retrieve the metal ball before getting rid of his body; her hand dipped into a pool of warmer than normal blood, confirming her suspicions.  Had that bastard snapped his own aorta?  Her eyes narrowed. 

Paige shoved blackened organs out of the way, trying to find the broken artery.  Blood sloshed onto the floor, little flecks of gold becoming more noticeable the closer she got to the source.  It was pretty, the way he bled when a major, fast-bleeding vessel was cut, and it was something she didn’t get to see nearly enough.  She wondered what he thought of the tendrils of black ink that mixed in with crimson and fled from her severed veins.

Her fingers met warm metal, lying all the way in the back, resting next to the burnt ridges of his spine.  The spilled blood had cooled it much faster, and upon grabbing it she felt the neatly cut edge of one of his most vital blood vessels, too large and high-pressured to cauterize.  At least he hadn’t ended it on purpose, she supposed.

She tossed the ball back onto the table, not caring what it knocked over.  Her mind was more preoccupied with her next task; getting Tony’s body up the narrow basement stairs.  Getting him down here was easy, dragging him with just enough control so that he didn’t break his neck on the way down, but getting him up…

Paige scooped her arms under his shoulders, pulling him backwards across the floor, beginning to wish she had done this outside. 

A trail of gold-speckled blood marked Tony’s path up the stairs and out the back door, along with a trail of muttered obscenities.  Yanking his body to the edge of the woods, Paige had recently transplanted an especially unruly thornbush for just such an occasion. 

Carefully, Paige began wrapping his limbs in the spiked branches; not so that they were digging into his skin, but rather just hovering over, threatening to sink in as soon as he moved.  She wanted to find out if he’d be able to feel pain again when he woke up if nothing was immediately damaging his body. 

Her work finished, Paige gently kissed his cheek.  _Now_ they were even.

**Author's Note:**

> so i mean heat may very well denature diazepam i dont actually know   
> next one will be uh  
> more constructive to their relationship


End file.
